


Technicolor.

by theweedsmell



Series: Bashed Out. [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Drug Abuse, Drug Addiction, Drug Withdrawal, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Idiots in Love, If You Squint - Freeform, Insecure Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, More tags to be added, Multi, Oblivious Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, jaskier needs help, no beta we die like men, triss/yennefer - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:43:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23717635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theweedsmell/pseuds/theweedsmell
Summary: Witchers were simple.Monsters, money, and the occasional shag were plenty to get by on.Bards however, were not.Geralt learnt this the hard way; through personal experience.☢This is my first upload to ao3 so feedback is really appreciated.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, they're all great buddies
Series: Bashed Out. [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1708213
Comments: 13
Kudos: 71





	1. Good Time, Again Soon.

Travelling with Jaskier was difficult.  
He never dressed appropriately, he had weak calves, never knew how to pack for a journey, and complained about everything.  
"Oh Geralt, my feet ache so in these heels!"  
"Can we sit for a moment in the shade? I can feel the rivulets rushing down my back."  
"Would you mind carrying this for a moment? My back is sore."  
"I'm sick of dirt trails and arachnomorphs. I want to go to bed."  
There was never a dull moment.  
For a while, these things got on Geralt's nerves, and he had the fleeting thought of tossing Jaskier from the peak of the mountains at Kaer Trolde, just to watch him bounce down to the dock. However, this would never happen. He wouldn't seriously consider ever harming the bard. The warmth that Jaskier inspired in his chest would never allow it. 

For Geralt, it was strange. Strange, difficult, yet comforting, adapting to travel with the young bard. Bemusing, is what it was.

At first glance, Jaskier seemed most himself while belting coy ditties in taverns, immersed within throngs of adoring women. He was truly himself on the road with his witcher.   
Geralt knew this. he was privy to most of Jaskier's secrets, desires, thoughts, and feelings. I say "most of", as this is hardly a generic tale of the pair's travels, and does in fact, entail plot. This plot, unfortunately for both the bard and the witcher, revolves around one of the secrets that geralt is _not_ privy to, and one that Jaskier really, _really_ doesn't want him to know about. 

The two were on their way to visit Triss in Novigrad, during a spell of bright weather. Geralt was looking forward to catching up with an old friend, but Jaskier had other things on his mind.   
The first night in the city, they spent as a pair in The Golden Sturgeon, drinking and joking, and sharing their first proper meal in days. And if Jaskier disappeared for twenty unexplained minutes, neither of them acknowledged it.   
The following day, they met Triss at the docks, and decided the day would be best spent by the waterside.   
They sat on the silt, trousers cuffed, and feet submerged in the still water. The sun beat down as if it were challenging the White Frost itself. 

"So," Triss smiled, "what've you been up to?"   
"Just finished up a job over at the Vegelbuds'. Nasty bit of business- Three stable boys mutilated and left to bleed out by the race track." Geralt said.   
Jaskier winced.   
"What did you discover?" Triss asked.  
"Our resident alchemist, Albert, had been experimenting on a katakan. Don't know where he found the thing, let alone how he managed to trap it, but obviously it escaped." Geralt explained.  
"I never want to see one of those again." Jaskier shuddered.  
"I've seen plenty. Horrible creatures. Got a great story about one down in Velen if you'd care for it over a drink later?"   
"How could we refuse?" Geralt nodded.  
"Could be to celebrate a job well done." Triss added.  
"Did just that last night. I'll admit, Jas' celebrated moreso than I did, if you catch my drift." Geralt shot Jaskier a suggestive glance.  
Jaskier's face exploded into a deep red, that spread all the way up to his ears.  
"Must've been the worst twenty minutes of that poor girl's life." Geralt joked.  
Triss snorted and kicked her feet in the water.  
Jaskier spluttered in an attempt to make a comeback, but was at a loss for words. In fact, he hadn't been with a woman during that time, but if that's what the assumption was, he was more than happy to let them believe it. It was much easier to swallow than the truth. 

"I'm going for a swim. Care to join?" Triss stood knee-deep in the water, her hands outstretched to the two men, still sitting on the silt.   
Geralt shrugged and shucked off his shirt, allowing Triss to lead him out into the river. Jaskier politely declined, opting instead to visit Elihal. He set off in an awful hurry for somebody that was on his way to get a seam repaired.   
As soon as Jaskier was out of earshot, Triss turned to Geralt with a spirited sparkle in her eyes.   
"How's your new travel companion working out?" She asked.  
"Fine." Geralt grunted. "Where is this going?"   
"You should've seen his face when you took your shirt off."   
"Half the population of Novigrad stopped to stare. What's the difference?" he huffed.  
"Idiot." Triss giggled, splashing water in the witcher's face.   
And so two of the most powerful forces in Temeria spent somewhere close to an hour spraying each other with water and laughing like children.   
Upon Jaskier's return from the tailor, Geralt and Triss were climbing out of the river. He couldn't help but ogle the witcher as he dried off, droplets of river water glittering under the sun, scars spreading across his body like white lightning and framed with red. When he drew his gaze away from Geralt, he realised that the sun was too bright, the people were too loud, the streets too crowded. It was too much.   
"We need to go." Jaskier whispered to Geralt, resisting the urge to tug on his sleeve.   
"What's up?"   
Jaskier shook his head. _Not now._ He hoped Geralt would understand. He did. 

That evening, after dinner and a couple of tankards of ale, Triss and Geralt went straight for the vodka. They had tried to rope Jaskier in, but he refused, excusing himself to use the toilet.   
"Is he okay?" Triss asked, leaning over the table to speak quietly, watching Jaskier scurry off.  
"D'no." Geralt said through his drink.  
"If I didn't know him any better, I'd say he was chronically shy. He's been strange today. If anyone knows what's going on, it'd be you."   
"He's always a bit... off. I've just been assuming it's none of my business and leaving him to it."   
"Really? I mean, how long have you been travelling together now?"  
"Two and a half years, give or take a few months."  
"And he's always like this?"   
"Well, yeah."  
"Hm."  
There was a long pause.   
"He'll be back soon, no doubt. My boy loves his vodka."  
"Your boy?" There was a playful lilt to Triss' voice.   
"You know what I meant." Geralt said gruffly.  
"I know I do, but do you?" 

Meanwhile, Jaskier was leaning over a wash basin, sucking down a line of fisstech. Once he was sure there was none left, he straightened and let out a sigh, alleviating the knot in his chest. He wiped the remainder off his face and rubbed it on his gums messily, without a second thought. He then splashed his face with water, and stepped back to look at himself in the mirror.   
It was so much easier for him when they made stops at inns and taverns. That way, he could buy and use as much fisstech as he _wanted_ without arousing suspicion. On the road, it was a different story. he would have to come up with excuses to wait behind while Geralt tracked down monsters, wait till the witcher was meditating, and most embarrassingly, lead him to believe that he was sick or injured to mask the effects of the drug.   
On one occasion, he had _wanted_ some fisstech so badly, he'd taken some coin from the witcher, ran off from their camp during the night, and when Geralt found him the following morning, shivering with cold and jonesing for another hit, he lied to his face and claimed he'd been taken by a beast in the night. Luckily for Jaskier, a quartet of rabid cave trolls had taken up residence not far from their camp. Geralt disposed of them and apologized for not being more attentive during the night. It was a close one.

The most important part of it all, Jaskier reminded himself, was that he _wanted_ fisstech. It wasn't as if he needed it or anything. No, he never awoke with the shakes, or lost sleep because of headaches, tremors, and nausea. Hadn't vomited in the woods, crying and sobbing on multiple occasions, and most definitely hadn't passed out multiple times due to overdoses and withdrawals. He was _fine._ It was under control. 

Jaskier steadied his shaking hands, smoothed down his vest, and headed back down to join Triss and Geralt.   
When he returned, another familiar face greeted him.   
Yennefer of Vengerberg.   
"Look who decided to join us." Triss chuckled.   
"Long time, no see." Yennefer said cheerfully.  
"Indeed, I swear I haven't seen you since Geralt first started growing out his beard." Jaskier replied jovially.   
"You feeling any better?" Geralt asked Jaskier quietly, guiding him onto the bench beside him.   
The fisstech was _really_ hitting him, and so, with a wide dopey smile he responded;  
"Definitely." 

"Yen-" Geralt began, a few drinks in, "what brings you to Novigrad? I thought you had business with The Lodge."   
"I owed the Temple Guard some favors. I can't explain until further notice-"  
"Aw come on, you can tell us!" Triss chimed in.  
"Yeah, don't be such a stick in the mud." Jaskier added with an exaggerated eye roll. "You haven't changed a bit."   
"Neither have you; still don't know how to speak to a lady." Yennefer quipped.  
"I don't think it's ladies he needs to be speaking to." Triss giggled, cheeks pink from the alcohol.  
Yennefer raised an eyebrow.   
"I've told you already, it's not like that." Geralt grumbled.  
"Like what?" Jaskier asked innocently.   
"Nothing." Geralt grunted. Triss, out of line of sight, pointed at the two of them and made kissing noises.   
"That's quite enough." Yennefer chuckled. "Next round's on me." 

"-And he just left me there, in a pond full of drowners. Can you believe the cheek?" Jaskier exclaimed.  
"Forgive me for prioritising the bilge hag that was heading towards the village." Geralt sighed. It was not the first time Jaskier had treated a group of friends to that story, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. Of course, he left out the part detailing how high he was at the time, and the amount of fisstech that got ruined by the water. That was the main problem, really.   
"Leaving me to fend for myself, without a weapon or even a shred of dignity!"   
"You're still alive, are you not?" Geralt waved his hands sloppily.  
"I thought I was dying that night, I could barely move!" Yet again, this was probably more to do with the amount of fisstech he'd used, rather than the meager scrapes received from the creatures.   
"Simmer down, boys." Yennefer interjected.  
"Shots?" Triss suggested. Then a thought struck her. "Play us a tune!" she squealed at Jaskier.   
"Fuck it, why not?" Jaskier shrugged, a beaming smile plastered on his face. "I'll be right back." 

Up in the room, lute in hand, Jaskier snorted a thick line of fisstech off the back of his hand. He stood, swaying for a moment, eyes wide and pupils wider. The waves of relief were those of immense power, washing over him and dragging him under, before spitting him back out. With a wide grin, he headed back down to give them a show. 

He strummed his lute with vigor, his bubbly personality bouncing off the walls. he was stood upon a table, his friends cheering him on, mugs of ale in their fists. His whole body was tingling with exuberance, heart ablaze with excitement, his laughter shaking his chest. He could feel it all coursing through him, giving him life. he had attracted the attention of quite a few pub-goers, who were watching in amusement as he struggled to remember the words, too trashed to enunciate them properly anyway. Time seemed to fade away into the background, and it was anyone's guess as to how long they'd been painting the town red.   
He looked over at Triss and Yennefer, who were dancing together in a whirl of colourful fabric. His gaze traveled across the room, skimming over the patrons of the bar before he locked eyes with Geralt. He flashed a cocky smirk before looking away.   
Suddenly he was terrified.   
He looked back at his friends, this time with fear.  
What if they knew? What would they say? What would _Geralt_ say?  
He felt sick to his stomach. The room around him was spinning, faces blurry and unfocused. With a jarring, dissonant chord, he dropped his lute and stumbled back off the table. Before anyone could intervene, Jaskier was halfway up the stairs. 

Geralt picked up the lute with clumsy hands. he was far too drunk to string together a coherent sentence, and so left Triss and Yennefer with;  
"Good time, again soon." 


	2. Chasing Rainbows.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yen and Triss concoct the basis of a plan.  
> Geralt runs errands.  
> Jaskier gets high in an alley.  
> Nothing out of the ordinary.

The two sorceresses, Triss and Yennefer, reconvened the following day. Triss found Yen perched on a bench in the shade, raven-like in appearance.  
Without a greeting extending past eye contact, Triss got straight to the point.

"Something's not right with Jaskier."   
"Is he unwell? I probably have a salve or tonic that would help."  
"I'm not sure."  
"What exactly has happened?"   
Triss told her what she knew, which wasn't much. 

"Have you considered the possibility that he was nervous to see us again? Or perhaps he was just very drunk last night." Yennefer said.  
"Why would he have been nervous to meet us? It's not like him to be shy, unless he's hiding something." Triss pointed out  
"That's true. Did you see how much he had to drink at all?"   
"Not exactly, but I don't think it was too much. We both know what he's like pissed, and last night was definitely not an example of it.  
"Have you spoken to Geralt about it? If anyone's to notice something amiss, it'd be him."   
"Apparently Jaskier's always like that. At least that's what Geralt told me. I think he's too close to the issue to identify it."   
"So you're suggesting it's something like a slow change? Something that Geralt wouldn't notice because it happened over a long period of time, quite subtly?"   
"Uh, yeah. that."   
They looked at each other, expectant. 

"Should we do something about it?" Yennefer asked after a moment's deliberation.  
"We have to. He's our friend. if something's wrong, we can't let him suffer in silence." Triss's voice shook a little, but was driven by purpose.  
"Hey, calm down. We don't know for sure that there's something terrible going on."  
"What do you suggest we do?"  
"Well, I'm staying here for a while to assist the Temple Guard, so we could convince the boys to hang around for a while and observe." Yennefer suggested.  
"Would that not be suspicious?"   
"I doubt it. We should try and spend more time with them before we part ways again anyway. Shockingly, I do grow to miss them." 

Meanwhile, back at the Golden Sturgeon, Geralt was mopping Jaskier's vomit off the floorboards. Jaskier stirred from sleep with a tight groan. 

"You are some lightweight." Geralt said over his shoulder with a smile.   
"Yeah." Jaskier choked out a laugh. The alcohol. Of course.  
His whole body was aching. There was vomit in his hair. His chest was  _ starving.  
_ Geralt whipped back the covers and pulled Jaskier up.

"This would be a lot easier if you'd help." He grumbled, dragging Jaskier to the filled bathtub. Once he was safely inside, Geralt stood back to look him over.  
"Are you unwell? You look sick, and your hands are clammy." Concern flashed across the witcher's face.  
"Just hungover. Don't let me get in the way." Jaskier smiled weakly.  
"Right. I'm gonna head out and get breakfast. What do you want?"   
_ A few lines of fisstech.  
_ "Just something plain and light- easy on the stomach." Jaskier said through a grimace. 

As soon as the door closed behind him, Jaskier was clambering out of the bath and heading towards his bag. Bathwater dripped everywhere, but he was unfazed. In seconds, what was left of his fisstech was flowing through his veins, and he was settling back into the bath with a satisfied sigh.  
The door swung back open, jerking Jaskier out of his stupor. 

"Forgot my coin purse." Geralt muttered, grabbing it off the nightstand and heading back out, not stopping to look back. For this, Jaskier was thankful.   
Just as he was leaning back into the water, he was hit with a sudden realisation.   
That was the last of his fisstech.

"Shit." he swore under his breath. In a hurry, he rinsed his hair and rubbed chamomile into his skin and dressed himself. He picked up his coin purse and rifled through it, counting it out.  Honestly, the only reason Geralt hadn't clocked Jaskier's activities was through sheer luck. Over the course of the months, he'd gradually lost all discretion and just hoped to fly under the radar effortlessly. Timing was imperative, and it seemed it was on his side. So many times, Geralt had _almost_ caught him. Almost.  
It was a wonder the witcher hadn't noticed anything amiss; especially given his unparalleled senses and unfaltering intuition. Whatever god or goddess was watching over Jaskier's discretion was one that he owed many a prayer.  


His mind was racing, conjuring up several- albeit terribly see through- excuses to throw at Geralt upon his return from the market. Getting even half an hour of unsupervised strolling through the city would be plenty, Jaskier thought.   
Before his brain decided to enlighten him with an appropriate excuse, Geralt came barging in, bread and butter under his arm, announcing something about Triss and plans for the week.   
It took Jaskier a moment to comprehend what was happening.   
"Wait, what?" He bleated.  
"Met Triss outside, says she needs my help with her research today. You'll be fine to entertain yourself, right?"   
Jaskier couldn't believe his ears.   
"Yes! Yeah..." He trailed off, ears reddening, "I'll be fine."   
"Also," Geralt continued without so much as a batted eyelid, "Might be an idea for us to stay a while longer. Triss was telling me about some of the things happening in the city this week. Could definitely stand to relax and spend time with friends, don't you think?"  
Jaskier could not have been more pleased. So, with a big cheesy grin on his face, he replied;  
"Of course."   
"We'll meet up at Triss's later, make a plan."   
Jaskier nodded quickly.   
Geralt tossed him some bread and left the butter on the nightstand.  
"Innkeep says to be out in an hour. I'll see you later. Stay safe." And with that, the witcher was gone, and Jaskier was left to enjoy his peak soundly, with a bit of bread to nibble before dragging himself into the streets, lute and bag on his back. 

Jaskier found himself far too close to Cleaver's territory, but somehow wasn't as jittery as he should've been. His fingers were quaking, sure, but not due to fear.   
A hooded elf stood on the corner, watching him.   
Jaskier could feel the fisstech calling out. Against his better judgement, he approached the stranger. Coin glinted lazily under the shaft of light straining to reach through the buildings along either side of the alley. Paper rustled, powder shifting within as it passed hands. Just the sight of it had his fingers twitching anxiously, his breath hitching.   
The shady individual nodded and left without another word, and Jaskier dropped his luggage so he could knock himself into another world.   
  


Across the street, Yennefer had been mingling with guards, prying for information, when she noticed a brightly dressed bard slip into an incongruously dull alley. Looking past the armored men, she couldn't miss the hooded stranger, and what was unmistakably Jaskier, handing him coin and coming away with a small brown package.   
Anger flushed her face, followed rather quickly by concern.   
Surely not. She told herself, but when she watched him stumble unceremoniously from the alley a few minutes later, fumbling with his lute and rubbing his nose.   
Yennefer thought to approach him, but stopped herself. She couldn't intervene then, it wouldn't get them anywhere. Best case scenario, he runs off to avoid questioning. Worst case- Yennefer shuddered at the thought- he decides to do something reckless or desperate in a bid to avoid exposure. Either way, not exactly a win for either party.   
She'd have to meet Triss, discuss her findings, as soon as possible. Hopefully without the involvement of Geralt. Yen decided, it was probably best to avoid bringing the witcher into things until she was completely convinced of her theory. Knowing him, he'd get grouchy and argue about it. Maybe upset a few people, not least himself.   
She clenched and released her teeth and fists. She would have to be patient. 

Triss was doing something with resonance gems that Geralt hadn't the time to try and understand. He'd been assigned relevant errands anyway, as the actual sorcery of the process wasn't something he could be of use in anyway. He was out, collecting control gems from a merchant that had been holding out on delivering when a frantic knock led Triss to opening the door to Yennefer.  
"Oh gosh- Come in!" Triss babbled, hair untamed and wild as she flustered around, clearing away equipment.   
She pulled up a pair of chairs and invited Yen to sit.   
"What brings you here? I'm assuming it's not just for tea and a chat?" Triss said.  
"I saw Jaskier in town today," Yennefer began.  
Triss's eyes told her to continue.   
"I think he was buying fisstech. I'm not entirely sure, but the encounter involved an alley and a shady looking character, some coin and a brown paper bag, so I don't know what else it could be." Yen explained in a rush.   
"He- He could've been buying alchemy ingredients." Triss said, but it came out as more of a question than anything else. Her tone and gaze tried to convey optimism, but her creased brow betrayed them.   
"You and I both know that's unlikely." Yennefer's voice was low, solemn.   
"It's common to see magical transactions go down that way. Temple guard isn't particularly fond of us mages, in case you forgot." Triss countered, but she knew deep down that her hopes were in vain.   
"What should we do next?" Triss asked quietly after a second's deliberation.  
"We shouldn't take this to Geralt. Not yet anyway. We don't have any solid proof, and I definitely don't want things to become confrontational. We can't corner him. Somehow we'll have to- have to coax him into admitting to it." Yennefer said, soft and resigned.   
"In that case, you should get back to investigating the guardsmen's issue before he gets back."   
"He's been here? I should've known that smell was onion."   
"He's helping with my work. Running some errands."   
"Typical Geralt." Yennefer hummed, straightening her cloak. "See you later."   
"See you, Yen."   


The sun was sinking from the mountain it had settled atop for the middling hours of the day, and Geralt was still hard at work, running around Novigrad in search of unreliable merchants and rare tools. Triss was still tinkering with her gems, Yennefer was following the ever-growing list of leads with the guards, and Jaskier, well. Jaskier was careening through the streets, confidence, exhileration, and _euphoria_ rushing through him. His skin was abuzz with the familiar tingle, hairs prickling up despite the absence of a breeze of any kind.   
_Again._ His mind urged. And Jaskier couldn't resist. 

A slight, warm wind had picked up, and was rustling Jaskier's hair as he sat atop a roof. He didn't know how he got there.   
One moment, he was moaning through a lungful of fisstech, falling against a brick wall and panting as his head started to spin and his ears started to ring. The next, he was perched on the roof, chest full of laughter and a pleasant numbness consuming his face.   
He smiled into the setting sun.   
He was untouchable up there, streets stretching out below, swathes of people bustling between market stalls and carts. The light was so warm, so comforting, and helped offset the feeling of dread that had begun to set in. The sun's rays reached out to him, wrapping him in a hug. They'd take care of him.


	3. Icarus.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Triss sets out to buy some tools and instead finds Jaskier in a compromising position.  
> Things get real.

All Triss had set out for was a new set of calipers. It wasn't too much to ask, surely? A quick jaunt across town to pick them up without a hitch was all she wanted, but the universe always had to give her a bit more. 

She was floating through the market square, smiling giddily at the thought of her shiny new tools. It was the simple things. She side-stepped to avoid a passing vegetable cart, and that was when Jaskier, seemingly out of nowhere, tumbled into her. He was disturbingly limp, and her chest fluttered in sudden panic. She held him for a moment, dead weight in her arms, before holding him upright. He wouldn't stop swaying otherwise. She swallowed the lump in her throat and looked him over. His clothes were grubby, his eyes hooded, and his face had been knocked about pretty badly.   
"What happened?" Triss narrowed her eyes at Jaskier. He stared up at her, unresponsive, and she was forced to consider the notion that perhaps he wasn't fully conscious. Scratch that- She was forced to some to terms with the fact that he was off his head and probably didn't even recognise her. Minutes passed. She couldn't stop her eyes from wandering over his face. From his bloodied nose, to his drooping eyelids, his parted lips, and the unmistakable deep violet of a fresh bruise blooming across his cheek. She didn't miss the powder smeared underneath his nose either, but instead chose to ignore it for the time being.   
Triss dragged him over to a less crowded section of the square and set him down carefully, propping him against a wall. His attempts at supporting himself, though weak and rather pathetic, gave her a little bit of hope to cling to in the moment. Her heart was heavy as she pushed his hair back and wiped the blood from his upper lip.   
She took a second to squint at him. Not that he'd notice, but just for her own satisfaction, in the (very likely) event that she couldn't bring herself to chew him out for his behaviour at a more appropriate time. Anger flared up inside her. She couldn't believe how irresponsible he could be. How inconsiderate and ignorant and selfish he was acting. She was seeing red, and had to stop herself from bringing her palm to his face.   
How stupid did he think they were? That Yennefer and Triss just wouldn't notice what he was doing? He may have been pulling the wool over the eyes of the witcher for the past year, but he sure as hell wasn't fooling them any time soon. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and let her better nature take over. This was no time to think about clocking him round the side of the head. He needed help, and that was what she was about to give him, whether he liked the extent of it or not. 

Jaskier was slumped back in one of the comfier chairs in The Kingfisher. He took slow sips from a cup of water, and Triss watched the rise and fall of his chest in silence, her chin resting on her clasped hands. It was still early enough in the day for the bar to be relatively scarce of patrons. This was helpful in so much as keeping things quiet for them, but it made the atmosphere between them much more prominent. The barkeep kept glancing over, but seemed quite happy to keep his distance. Jaskier hadn't uttered a word since their initial encounter, and didn't seem too keen on changing that. So eventually Triss piped up.

"What the fuck was that?" She hissed at him from across the table.   
Jaskier choked on his water, spluttered for a painful amount of time, let out a very fake cough, and averted his gaze.   
"You may have been able to fly under the radar with Geralt, but that is not the case with me, nor with Yennefer. You're as well to talk now. You aren't as discreet as you think. You were seen earlier."   
This time, Jaskier couldn't avoid the truth by inhaling his drink, and so, with a distinct hitch in his breath, managed to make eye contact. His fingers were twitching, and he fiddled with the hem of his sleeve. He shifted in his seat. The barkeep looked over again.  
"I-" Jaskier swallowed thickly, "I was assaulted."   
"Likely story." Triss wasn't having it.   
"I'm not lying, I swear."   
Triss stared him down, clenching her hands tightly, but not moving them from under her chin.   
"Do you really have that little respect for me? That little respect for yourself?" she spat.   
Jaskier's slump quickly tightened, and he curled in on himself. He was still riding the last dregs of his last hit, and this conversation was not part of his plan whatsoever. Despite the urge to up and run, he couldn't bring himself to. Something was keeping him there. Maybe it was the sadness hiding behind the flames in Triss' eyes, or perhaps it was the urgency in her voice. For all he knew, it could've been that he was exhausted after falling off a roof and just wanted to sit down. Whatever it was, it stopped him from fleeing.   
"Jas," Triss changed tactics, her tone stern but soft. "Yennefer saw you earlier. You can't fake your way out of this."   
Jaskier wanted to talk, he really did, but he didn't know what to say.   
"Listen, I want you to know that whatever's going on, you can talk to me about it. I understand if you don't want to discuss this with Geralt or Yen. You don't want to tarnish his opinion of you, and she's notoriously unwelcoming. I get it."  
Jaskier put down his cup and suddenly wondered how it could be so cold in the tavern despite the sun beating down outside. He shivered.   
"Okay." He sighed. "I didn't get assaulted. I fell off a roof."   
Triss' eyes snapped open, and her jaw fell slack.   
"You what?!"   
"Keep it down. Please."   
"Sorry." Triss lowered her voice to a whisper. "You need medical attention."  
"I'm fine. It's all superficial."   
"You don't know that for sure."   
"I think I'd notice if my spleen was ruptured or something."   
"Come back to my place. Geralt and Yen are probably both there by now. I'll get you cleaned up."   
"If you promise not to mention this to either of them."   
Triss hesitated.   
"Promise." 

"There's a few things I want to know before we head back." Triss said.   
"Go for it." Jaskier replied, before abruptly realising what he'd subjected himself to.   
"How long?"   
Jaskier muttered something into his sleeve.   
Triss shot him a side-eye.   
"Okay, let's try something else. When did you start?"  
"Maybe two years ago? But it was at parties and gigs. It doesn't count."  
"So when did it really start?"   
"Shortly after hitting the road with Ge-" he choked on the witcher's name and didn't try to continue.   
"Hm. How much would you use in a day?"   
"I don't- I don't know."  
"How much would you spend on it?"   
Jaskier shrugged.  
"How often do you use it then?"   
"Every day if I can." Jaskier voice was quiet, almost inaudible.  
Triss went silent.   
"How many lines have you had today?"   
Jaskier thought about it for a while. He decided honesty was the best policy given the situation.  
"Well... 'm not sure. Probably three or four before breakfast, maybe five around midday, I had a little more at some stage, but I lost track."   
"Melittle's tits, Jaskier." Triss breathed.  
"And d'you know what the sickest part is? I'd go for more. Right now. And I'd definitely finish the bag by the end of the day."  
"Firstly, remember that I don't know how much is in a bag. Secondly, I'm assuming it's a lot."   
"Here-" Jaskier fumbled with his coin purse, before pulling out a brown paper bag tied neatly with a piece of string. He dropped it into her hand.  
Triss ogled it before prying it open to look inside. Immediately, she looked away and shoved it back at him.   
As they walked down the street, Jaskier's fisstech safely stowed away in his coin purse once again, all he could think about was huffing down another hit. As if reading his mind, Triss stopped in her tracks and turned to face him.   
"Do not, under any circumstances, open that bag in my house." It was not a question, and so deserved no answer. Triss continued; "I'd ask you to stop altogether, but I know that isn't how it works. Just try and abstain for today, if you can. It'd mean a lot to me."   
Jaskier felt his stomach twist up in knots. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always imagined these two to have a sibling-like relationship. It was also hard to try and convey the duality of Triss' temperament here- She's quite sharp and snappy, but also like,,, soft and caring. Especially for poor lil Jas.   
> Sorry if this is a little short, this whole thing had slipped my mind for a while, but I'm back now. I'll try and keep the ball rolling.


	4. Embarrassment and Fear.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jas' doesn't have a good time at Triss' place.  
> Jaskier and Geralt have a jarring conversation.  
> Roach makes an appearance.  
> Geralt discovers what the bard has been hiding from him.  
> It's a terrible day all round.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might rewrite this chapter bc it's a bit rubbish lol

Triss' house was stifling.   
A combination of heat, perfume from the alchemy table, and Jaskier's avoidance of eye-contact was suffocating. Any semblance of relaxation that Jaskier had going for him had thrown itself off a cliff as soon as he walked into the house and saw Geralt and Yennefer. They'd tried to make him useful, but he kept shaking and dropping things and forgetting what he was meant to do, so they let him sit there under the guise of moral support. If moral support was getting frightened any time somebody spoke to him, and picking at his nails, he was doing a brilliant job.   
He just wanted a little bit of fisstech. That'd help the knots in his stomach, the tightness in his chest, and the lump in his throat. He didn't want to defy Triss, but maybe he didn't have to. If the bag was never opened inside her house, he hadn't disregarded what she'd said. The last rational brain-cell he had was reminding him that the loophole wasn't fair, that that hadn't been what was meant. Jaskier wanted to listen to it, he really did, but if he didn't do something soon, his head was going to explode. 

Geralt had pointed out that Jaskier looked ill, and Triss had been kind enough to let him lie on her bed. Whether or not she had meant for him to take a nap wasn't in the forefront of his mind, so when the sleep gripped him, he didn't resist.   
When Jaskier awoke, it was pitch black outside. He had no idea what time it was. His head was spinning as he pushed himself into a sitting position. Immediately, he realised it was a mistake. The burn of bile rose in his throat. He threw himself up and bolted down the stairs, slipping on anything that was in the way. The room didn't miss him barreling out the back door.   
Unfortunately for Geralt as he stepped out to see what was occurring, Jaskier hadn't had time to dive behind anything for coverage, and he stepped right in the vomit as it spewed out onto the dirt. He remained composed, removed his boot from the steadily growing puddle, and put a firm hand on Jaskier's back. He waited for the dry heaving to stop before saying anything.

"Are you okay?" Geralt asked, slow and careful.  
"What does it look like?" Jaskier snapped. He took a deep breath and faltered. There was no need to get bitchy. "Sorry- I-"   
"It's fine, stupid question. Should've asked what's wrong."   
Jaskier shook his head and stared at his feet.  
"Do you need anything? Should I get you some water?"   
"Please." Jaskier's voice came quiet and small. 

So Geralt got him a glass of water, and brought two chairs out while he was at it. He sat with him while he sipped at it, stoic and silent. When Jaskier put the glass on the step and let out a sigh, that was Geralt's cue to pry.  
"Do you have any clue what prompted this?"   
Jaskier thought for an excuse that wasn't the truth. He wasn't ready for it. He came up blank, knowing the witcher would see right through his lies, so he gave him a convincing shrug instead.   
"Hm." Geralt shifted in his seat, "Do you want to see a medic?"   
"No, it's fine." Jaskier said in a hurry.   
"If anything like this happens again I'll be dragging you to one."   
Jaskier nodded hastily.  
A pair of guards sauntered past.

"Any explanation for the bruise on your face?"   
Jaskier felt his stomach drop out through the seat of the chair.  
"I fell."   
Geralt looked him over, amber eyes sharp with scrutiny. He knew Jaskier was lying to him, but didn't press any further.

There were many scents on the night air. Sweat, alcohol, fish, flowers, horse manure, a mixture of ladies' perfumes, but the most prominent was coming from Jaskier. Embarrassment and... fear? Geralt zeroed in on the smell. It was definitely fear. What would Jaskier have to be afraid of in that moment? An ugly thought occurred to the witcher. Was Jaskier afraid of _him?_ It made his heart ache and his throat close up.  
"Try not to fall again." Geralt tried to sound funny, but it came out as more of a choked wheeze.   
"I'll try, but you know I will." Jaskier cracked a smile, "You'll always be there to catch me, right?"   
"Yeah." Geralt hummed, the horrible sensation easing slightly.   
"You two ready to come inside? Triss has something for you to do." Yennefer appeared on the step.  
"Oh- Yeah, just a second." Jaskier told her. Her eyes darted between them before she turned and went back in.  
Jaskier looked at Geralt expectantly. Geralt said nothing.  
"Can I ask you something?"  
"You just have." Geralt smirked back. Jaskier didn't look impressed.  
"What would I have to do for you to hate me?"   
Geralt froze. Blinking slowly, brow furrowed, he looked at him for what felt like an age. Jaskier held fast, his baby blues begging for an answer.  
"Where'd this come from?"   
"I just want to know."  
"Well, I-" Geralt racked his brain for an answer, "I don't know." Something clicked, and immediately he continued, "What have you done?"  
"Nothing." Jaskier's lips were pursed.   
"Whatever it is, it's probably not a big deal."   
Jaskier didn't speak further. They sat, wordless, for another few minutes. 

Inside the house, something was burning, and Yennefer was flitting between bowls on the counter, and Triss was squawking frantically while she ran down the stairs with a towel. Geralt stood in the doorway, watching the chaos unfold. He made a decision then.   
"Jaskier, will you head back to the inn and sort us a room? I'll be back in half an hour."   
Jaskier obliged, dying to get out of there as soon as possible. With Geralt's coin purse in hand, he took his leave. As soon as he closed the door behind him, he ducked around the corner and dosed himself up with fisstech. He leaned against the house, panting and groaning in satisfaction. He peered out onto the street. He could see Geralt fiddling with Roach's saddlebags, dimly lit by a lantern, and while his back was turned, made a break for it. He got away unnoticed. 

When Geralt entered the room, his attention was immediately drawn to the pair of sorceresses huddled together in the corner, whispering between themselves. He caught something about Jaskier before they noticed him and made a show of straightening themselves and clearing their throats.   
"What's this about Jas'?" He asked, "And before you tell me you've sworn to secrecy, know that I will find out if you're hiding something."   
Triss looked at Yennefer as if asking for permission before speaking.  
"You know I came back with him, but I never said how I bumped into him. He wasn't in a good way. Had taken a fall," She trailed off.   
Geralt glared.  
"He told me he'd fallen off a roof." Triss looked away.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think of this work so far, it was born of isolation-boredom.   
> Also- Who do you want to see in future chapters? I've seen the show and played through the wild hunt so far, so I'm probably not wildly educated on the book/book related things.


End file.
